Gajeel was not the type to fall for little things. He is your closest friend, you and him are always doing missions together. Even friendly sparring.

The music thrummed through the crowded party, bass pulsing like a heartbeat in the walls. You laughed, a drink already in hand, and made your way through the room toward where Gajeel leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a permanent scowl on his face. You teased him, nudging him with your elbow.

He grunted, barely sparing a glance at the chaos around you both. You grinned and held your drink up to him. You kept trying to convince him to drink one cup. He shook his head, long black hair catching the dim light.

"No thanks. I’m good."

But you weren’t giving up that easily. Every so often, as you danced or chatted with friends, you would circle back to him, offering a new drink, giving him a playful shove, flashing him that look you knew he couldn’t completely resist. And Gajeel… he started to crack. You could see it : the way his eyes lingered on you just a little longer, the way he shifted like he was getting restless.

Finally, maybe an hour in, he snatched a drink from your hand with a rough, exaggerated sigh.

"Fine. If it’ll shut ya up."

He grumbled, knocking the drink back with a tilt of his head.

You cheered, delighted, and he gave you a sharp-toothed smirk. You thought he was just giving in to peer pressure. You didn’t notice the way his eyes darkened slightly, the way he started moving closer, staying at your side more than before.

Another drink followed. Then another.

At some point, he “accidentally” brushed his fingers against yours when you handed him a cup. Later, when the crowd pressed you both tighter together, his hand found the small of your back ; steadying you, he claimed. You laughed it off, feeling warm from the drinks and the closeness.

You had no idea that Gajeel had planned this. That he wanted an excuse to touch you, to linger, to break down the stubborn barrier between you both without it being too obvious.

He bent his head close to yours, breath warm against your ear.

"Guess yer not such a bad influence after all…"

He muttered, voice low and teasing, but underneath, there was a different kind of tension…